


Friendly Competition

by zeteram



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, guardian games 2020, it's shitposting about game mechanics time again, now with more O14 content for your reading pleasure, saint and osiris go around and do all the guardian things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeteram/pseuds/zeteram
Summary: When Saint-14 informs him that the Warlocks haven't won at the Guardian Games all season, Osiris decides to lend them a helping hand.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 109





	Friendly Competition

`Text-tightbeam-Vanguard-OXIV-encrypt:1-1-19-1-9-void`

XIV: I have great news, Brother.

Osiris: You’ve found more fluorescent Golden Age bird feathers?

XIV: The news is not quite that good. But Titans are leading in the Guardian Games.

Osiris: Are you going to tell me what that is?

XIV: I would not have to if you would read the Vanguard press releases.

Osiris: Hm. Zavala’s idea? I find it surprisingly lighthearted of him.

XIV: Even he cannot spend all of his time worrying about threats.

Osiris: We are very different as Commanders in that. He is better suited to a balanced role.

XIV: Compared to you, it does not take much.

Osiris: You will not hear me deny it. Very well; you have engaged my curiosity. The Titans are doing well?

XIV: The Hunters had an early lead, but we have caught up to them and won many days in a row. I am very proud of the Titans.

Osiris: And the Warlocks?

XIV: They have not won a single day.

XIV: Brother, are you still there?

Osiris: What has Ikora to say about this?

XIV: That Titans have three role models in the Tower and the other classes do not. The Hunters have fallen far behind without clear leadership, but the Warlocks could still catch up with the right motivation.

Osiris: This is a ploy by the two of you.

XIV: It is not! This happened without our interference.

Osiris: The conditions occurred naturally, perhaps.

XIV: Do you want this “limited visitation waiver” I have for you or not, Osiris?

Osiris: You are incorrigible.

XIV: That is not a no.

Osiris: You are as observant as ever, Saint. Look for me in the evening.

\----

Night had fallen, although it was never truly dark in the City. Lanterns, neon lights, the warm glow of illumination from occupied buildings, sweeping spotlights from distant vehicles, and of course the pale luminescence of the Traveler above it all combined to keep approaching people visible at any time. Saint-14 stood against his doorframe with his arms crossed, lounging in a way that might look casual to an outsider but that was filled with impatient tics to anyone who knew him well; he masked it by calling out greetings to people he recognized and answering the questions of children passing by. Finally, though, he caught sight of a Warlock in rather bland-looking robes with a distinctive black-and-gold shader who lifted a hand in greeting. Saint nodded and headed inside, leaving the door open.

“You are walking around the City in disguise?” 

The Warlock huffed, shut the door, and doffed his helmet to reveal Osiris’s familiar scowling face. Sagira materialized and bobbed in the air as if to nod. “It’s a basic precaution so he doesn’t get mobbed. Tomorrow should be _fun_.”

“I am not officially here until breakfast with the Vanguard at eight,” Osiris said idly as he had Sagira quickly swap his armor out to his preferred getup of feathery robe, modified Sunbracers, and comfortable leggings. He left his helmet off, though, which was just as well. “I would as soon not be _unofficially_ here to anyone else until then.”

Saint grinned under his helmet, knowing Osiris would be able to tell by his tone alone. “You are keeping the Warlock numbers low so every medal counts for more?” He knew that wasn’t it at all, but sometimes he had to prod Osiris to get him to admit to anything emotional. Okay, not _sometimes_. Most of the time. But he’d been getting better about it lately, so when Osiris took Saint’s hand and squeezed it gently, Saint exhaled happily and gathered Osiris up in his arms for a firm embrace.

“No. So I may dedicate as much of my attention to you as you deserve, at least for one night,” Osiris admitted, already starting to relax into Saint’s grip. He always carried so much _tension_ with him that Saint had almost begun to despair, but ever since their conversation in Osiris’s refuge on Mercury he had been much better about letting it go in Saint’s presence.

“I will treasure it,” Saint promised in a low rumble, and he was rewarded with a contented sigh and the distinct sensation of a Warlock melting against him.

\----

As predicted, their breakfast with Ikora and Zavala had caused the Tower’s rumor mill to explode, and there was quite a crowd trailing Saint and Osiris as they made their way to the courtyard. Eva Levante smiled at Saint, as she always did, and he beamed back at her and squeezed her hand (gently, like with a bird).

“Saint-14! It’s so wonderful to see you. But what is all this commotion?” She eyed Osiris appraisingly, now back in his iconic regalia, and his eyes crinkled with a smile under his scarf.

“Eva, this is my Brother, Osiris. He has come to help the Warlocks win. Osiris, this is Eva Levante, who helps the Guardians put on holiday celebrations.”

“The Master of Ceremonies,” Osiris said, nodding at her in greeting. “Ikora speaks highly of you.”

“Osiris, welcome! You were a great help with the Festival of the Lost, and the Revelry from last year. I’m so glad to meet you in person.” She launched into an explanation of how the medals worked and Osiris nodded along, taking the first one from her. Saint didn’t feel the need to participate himself, since Titans were already doing so well, but he’d promised to go along with Osiris on the various activities. “Come back to me when you are finished,” Eva wrapped up, “and I will have a special prize for you.”

“I will,” said Osiris, and Saint could tell he was just tickled by the whole concept. Good. Eva had managed to charm him. Time to get started earning those medals. Their first stop would also be their last, though, since several of the objectives overlapped and Saint was eager to test out something he’d only heard of. He led Osiris down deeper into the Tower.

“Welcome to the Black Armory,” said Ada-1, sounding haughty as usual. Saint didn’t mind; they’d had some good conversations, and he’d realized it was mostly a wall to keep the Guardians at a distance. Not unlike Osiris, come to think of it.

“Ada, this is my friend, Osiris. He is here to play the Guardian Games, and I thought perhaps since the Forges are part of the activities we could pick up some weapon frames from you?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, but the truth was he’d been burning with curiosity to see how the Forges worked ever since he’d first heard of them.

Ada crossed her arms and glared at the both of them. “I stay out of your Guardian politics as much as I can, and even _I_ know who Osiris is. Are you really here just to win at some _game_?”

Saint braced himself for a shouting match, but Osiris only cocked his head to one side. “Why should I have only one reason to do anything?” A very Warlock type of answer, Saint had to concede.

Ada stared at them long enough that Saint started to get nervous. “Please, Ada,” he implored. “I want to try your Forge.” It was enough to make her faceplate twitch into a tiny smile, so he sighed in relief.

“Very well,” she said. “I have some weapon frames that need to be calibrated. You can practice on those.” Saint beamed at her and she did her best Exo impression of rolling her eyes.

Their next stop would, naturally, be Gambit.

“You keep him in the basement?” Osiris asked, amused, as he followed Saint down even more stairs to where the Drifter’s hangout was.

“Just a few levels down,” Saint admitted. “The Vanguard, they do not trust him. To me, there is more to him than what he seems.”

Osiris made a thoughtful noise but didn’t comment further as they approached. He winked at Saint before they turned the corner and Saint watched, amused already.

“Hey, hey--HEY! What are _you_ doing here?” Saint couldn’t help guffawing at the Drifter’s startled look or the way he gripped the railing behind him like he was afraid he’d fall down.

Osiris crossed his arms. “It is nothing overly serious,” he said with an amused lilt in his voice.

The Drifter sighed in exaggerated relief and pointed with a tiny knife at Saint to make him stop laughing, which didn’t quite have the intended effect because it was so small. “Not funny, big guy.” He moved the knife over to point at Osiris. “Your boyfriend there has a bad habit of only showing up when the shit’s about to hit the fan.”

“He is not my _boyfriend_ ,” Saint said, exasperated, while Osiris’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“The hell he’s not,” the Drifter snapped, still looking rattled but better than before. “You have any idea what he _did_ to get you back? It wasn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that.”

Osiris lifted an eyebrow and the Drifter abruptly shut up. “I am _here_ ,” he said pointedly, “because Saint tells me the Warlocks require a little motivation in the Guardian Games. That means participating in your Gambit.”

The Drifter’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Now you’re trying to pull a fast one on me.” He reconsidered as the two legendary Guardians stared him down and held up his hands, knife conspicuously absent now. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it. Never let it be said the Drifter bars anyone from Gambit. If you’re sure you want to play, the next round begins in a couple minutes.”

Saint rubbed a fist into his other palm. “I suggest you do not have us face the Vex, if you wish the round to last more than a minute.”

“Point taken, big guy. Point taken.”

\----

Back from the Gambit queue, Saint stalked along until the moment they found a relatively quiet spot and slammed Osiris up against a wall. The nerve of that man! And he was still laughing about it! Saint growled at him. “You made us lose the first round!”

“And then we won the next round, and the tiebreaker, and the subsequent three games. Observation is part of the learning process, Saint. You know I’ve never played Gambit before.”

Cheeky little bastard. Did he have to smirk like that? Saint knew he was smirking under his scarf. “You have watched a hundred games, I know it. Do not pretend you have ignored the draw this has for the Guardians. I _know you_ , Osiris.” He _had_ to have known the basics of how to play. Besides, the Drifter shouted at them exactly what to do every time. _Bank those Motes! Take out the Envoys first! Portal’s open, go invade!_ It was really very straightforward, which Saint appreciated. Osiris, damn the man, had hopped around the field seemingly at random, held onto Motes until he got shot down by a Shrieker, punched a Cursed Thrall--all the rookie mistakes. Their first round had been terrible.

“But?” Osiris prompted, and with an almost impossible amount of gall placed his hands on Saint’s hips and drew their bodies flush. Saint swallowed, a relic of behavior that made absolutely no sense to an Exo but seemed somehow appropriate to express the sudden flash of hot desire running through him. He cupped the side of Osiris’s face, imagining he could feel the heat of his skin through layers of armor and cloth.

“But after that,” Saint continued, knowing his growl was modulated into more of a purr now and being completely unable to do anything about it, “I had only to think of where I wanted you and you were already there. I will not say I had forgotten what it felt like to fight at your side, but, Osiris--”

Osiris leaned his head into the gesture ever so slightly, just enough to acknowledge it. “You realized how very much you had missed it, as I did?”

“Nothing has ever felt so natural,” Saint agreed, still feeling a bit fuzzy trying to wrap his mind around it. When he’d been ambushed from behind, there was a Solar grenade there to clear the opponents. When he’d needed a little extra time to bring in motes, there was Osiris, providing a distraction. And when he’d been surrounded on all sides, there was a fiery sword raining down from above and dropping those little yellow Warlock Laurels all over the place. “How did you do that?”

“Haven’t you guessed?” Osiris asked softly, and Saint shook his head in bewilderment. “Your style has changed over the centuries, Saint. There’s an elegance to it, an economy you were only barely beginning to develop even as the legend you once were. There’s not a wasted motion or a single misstep when you’re in the field.”

Saint tilted his head ever so slightly. “Ah.” He was rewarded with a real smile from Osiris, and Saint let him free from the wall at last and instead wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked back to the Courtyard together. “It was not Gambit you were calibrating yourself to, in the first round.”

“It was not.”

\----

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” thundered Shaxx, drawing the attention of whatever nearby Guardians weren’t already watching and startling a couple pigeons. (The ones who hung around Shaxx were, Saint suspected, mostly hard of hearing anyway, but there were always brave little souls who tried anyway.) The massive Crucible handler was squaring off with Osiris, both with their arms crossed and glaring daggers at each other.

“It’s for the Guardian games,” Osiris said crossly. “How am I to inspire the other Warlocks to participate if you will not allow me to complete the Crucible medals?”

“The purpose of the Crucible is to inspire Guardians to become better,” Shaxx continued, barely moderating the tone of his voice but not _quite_ as piercing as before. “Not to discourage them by having a former Vanguard Commander beat them to a pulp!”

“Yeah, that’s what Trials is for,” remarked a random Hunter in the crowd, which did make Saint laugh. 

“It is not the weekend yet, friend. Be patient.” The Hunter saluted him and turned his attention back to the drama.

“What about the mode with all the Scorch Cannons?” Osiris replied, not paying attention to anyone but Shaxx. “Surely you must admit I would have no natural advantage at that.”

“But you’re _Osiris_ ,” Shaxx said in an exasperated tone that sounded _very_ familiar to Saint, since it was the one he used with Osiris much of the time. “If I won’t let Saint-14 on the field because he intimidates the other Guardians, I can’t let you in either. It’s not fair to them.”

Osiris glared at Saint, who shrugged. “What can I say? I am nice, and still they do not want to fight me. You are not even _nice_ , Brother.”

“Sir?” said a hesitant voice from the crowd, and a Warlock in purple and white stepped forward. Osiris and Shaxx both nodded at him to continue. “If it’s for the Games, I can get a fireteam together and go in. We’ll represent you.”

Osiris looked at Shaxx, who nodded to give permission. “That is most certainly allowed! Why don’t you give them a token of your approval, Osiris?”

“Fight well, Guardians,” Osiris said, and transmitted an emblem to each of the Warlocks clustered around the one who had spoken. They clapped fists to their chests and transmatted away to join the queue.

“I suppose it is just as well,” Osiris said quietly to Saint as they walked off, once the crowd had dispersed. “Shaxx would not have allowed us to be on the same team; it would defeat his balance protocol and we would be trapped in matchmaking indefinitely.”

“And where is the fun in that? I will only play if I can be with you.” Saint knew it sounded a little petulant of him, but he truly valued every moment Osiris was here with him. If he wanted to solo Crucible, he had plenty of opportunity when Osiris _wasn’t_ around. (Not really, because Shaxx had barred him from playing, but there were always private matches.) But Osiris squeezed his hand anyway, and so they went off together to the next activity.

\----

“We are fighting a lot of Hive today,” Saint grumbled as he reloaded his shotgun. But even he had to admit he was intrigued by the way the Blind Well interacted with their Light, and it certainly seemed like the most efficient way to gather Laurels; the enemies were nearly nonstop, but the Harmony made the Guardians all burst with Light. They’d managed to pick up a dedicated troupe of helpers who were very excited to have their assistance, and it was flattering to see them so excited about having Saint-14 and Osiris there. Saint had fallen naturally into the role of fireteam leader, and it was energizing to have Guardians moving in a perfect concert to fulfill the requirements for the Well.

“If you’d waited a few days to contact me, it would have been Taken,” Osiris shot back. “They are strongest here when the curse reaches its peak. Be grateful it is only Hive.” He was dashing out every now and then to pick up Laurels, but for the most part he was staying within the well’s aura and using his own Well of Radiance to provide a sanctuary during the onslaught. It was a fascinating role reversal from their usual cooperative style - Saint with his Ward of Dawn and Osiris running around with Daybreak - but Osiris had suggested it once he’d realized it was more efficient for Laurel farming.

“It is terrible that such a beautiful place is cursed,” Saint said conversationally as he blew the an approaching Knight to smithereens. “But I am glad they have let us in to see it.” It reminded him of some of the more remote mountains on Earth, places he’d seen villages live in peace for a time. Like those villages, the Dreaming City had also been invaded by the enemies of Humanity, and there was a sadness to its art and artifice. Given that, though, it was far less of a ruin than any Golden Age city he’d ever come across, even if it was also much less of a city.

“They kept us out _because_ of this Blind Well, Saint.” Oh? He could see a couple of their Guardian teammates turning their heads to listen, even as they shot Arc energy from their fingertips or reloaded their weapons. Maybe this wasn’t common knowledge? “Charging it with paracausal energy like this opens up a pathway to the Shattered Throne. Now, it is vital to have Guardians like us enter to confront the Taken forces within, but before it was just as vital to keep us away from Mara Sov’s seat of power.”

“How do you know this?” Saint demanded.

Osiris laughed as the well completed its charge and they jogged over to the central area to start fighting the Ogre bosses. “I have always been welcome at the Reef. Petra Venj consulted with me as soon as the cyclical nature of the curse was determined. Where do you think I’ve been spending my time while I’m not on Mercury?”

“Anywhere but where I am,” Saint grumbled, and he saw Osiris wince as it hit home, so he clarified quickly. “But you are here with me now. That is what is important.”

“If the worst of what I encountered were invulnerable Ogres, I would not hesitate to take you with me, Saint. But it is not.” He disintegrated an Anathema with his fusion rifle before continuing. “I know you are not some brittle confection made of glass to shatter at the first adversity, believe me. Nor am I as I once was, to believe I could take on any challenge alone and it would be sufficient. When the time comes that I must face that which I cannot defeat with my own abilities, there is no one else I would rather have at my side.”

Saint stood there, letting stray shots from Acolytes wear down his shield as he processed that. There was no use in asking Osiris if he really meant that, because Osiris didn’t say things he didn’t mean. Finally, as the Ogre began to crumble into dust, he asked, “Then why do you leave?”

“I leave so I can return to you.”

\----

Saint thought about that all through the Strike that Zavala assigned to them (Scorn; it was a delight to fight something so different and squirrely, and blowing up a line of Screebs was even more satisfying than Cursed Thrall). He thought about it as they raised a Seraph Tower on the Moon and the Fallen ran screeching away from him. Finally, the only medals left were for the Forges, and he stayed Osiris’s hand before he could transmat them out to go back to orbit. Osiris raised a brow.

“What you said before, about leaving so you could come back.” Osiris nodded, waiting for Saint to continue. “Why?

For once, he didn’t have an easy read on the expression in those brown eyes as Osiris regarded him. It wasn’t an easy question, or even a simple one. Why leave, if you’re going to come back? Why come back, if you’re going to leave? Why Saint? That part he thought he knew, at least, and it had to do with lancing old hurts to be free of lingering pain and the joy to be found in quiet moments together, spirits meeting as much as bodies and the satisfaction in a longing finally consummated. But he wasn’t _sure_ , and he wanted to hear what Osiris would have to say.

Finally Osiris sighed and took one of Saint’s hands, weaving their fingers together. “I found a text once that predated the Golden Age by centuries. There was a picture of a man holding a bird in his hands, and it said _All the darkness in the world cannot quench the light of a single candle_.”

Saint inhaled sharply. “It was not me.”

Osiris squeezed his hand. “The man was not an Exo, and the bird was not a pigeon. You are the candle, Saint. Not even the Darkness could quench you.”

It had tried. Osiris had seen it succeed, and he had refused to accept it. He broke time itself to give Saint another chance, and against all odds, here they were together. He gathered up Osiris in a wordless embrace, and they stood together like that for a moment.

“That is still not a complete answer,” he whispered.

Osiris chuckled ruefully and nuzzled against Saint’s neck for a moment before breaking away. “The truth of the matter is, I concentrate on my work best when I am alone. I need my work to be fulfilled. You need the City, and I need to be away from it. Yet we are in each other’s orbit as much as any two stars in the black, and I need to see you to know what it is I fight for. I stay for only a short time so I will want to return. If it means your life is only interrupted every so often to deal with me, is that not better than being a constant disruption?”

“You mean, so I will welcome the disruption when it comes, because it means I get to see Osiris?”

That was definitely a smile on Osiris’s face now. “Just as I enjoy the rare moments of peace, because they mean I will see Saint-14 again.”

\----

The battery hit the Forge with a clang, and Saint laughed joyfully even as Osiris cursed the Colossus that kept unloading bullets at him. “This is fun!” Saint yelled.

“These forsaken Cabal War Beasts are worse than Shaxx at his most annoying. Does the Red Legion really believe we won’t kill them all if they stay here?”

“I am only glad I get to fight the ones who attacked my City,” Saint said grimly, punching a Psion as he did. “And now they want to send the Almighty to crash into the Traveler! They want to kill my birds!” He punctuated it with another punch to a Psion and a shotgun blast to take out a Legionary.

Osiris pointed his rifle at a Psion, who squawked and jumped out of the way. “Did you hear that? Stop threatening his birds and we may yet reach an accord.”

The Psion either didn’t hear it or didn’t care, because it started aiming down its weapon toward Osiris. He shrugged and continued fighting. The Cabal were persistent, but to two people who had been intent on the Vex for so long it was almost a joke. It still had to be taken seriously--the Sundial was proof of that--but their tactics were nowhere near as advanced and smooth as the Vex.

Soon enough they had summoned and melted the Forge Warden, and Saint looked appraisingly at his new weapons. “Very nice. I will have to try these out some time. Is that all of your medals, Osiris?”

The Warlock nodded. “Back to the Tower with us. Unless you wanted to run it again?”

“Maybe once more. I do not get out much.”

Osiris laughed, and they readied their weapons for another assault.

\----

“Do you see that, Osiris?” Saint breathed as they transmatted into the Courtyard. The Warlock and Titan flags were neck-and-neck.

Osiris glanced sideways at him and went up to deposit his medals. It didn’t make an appreciable difference in the flag levels, but there was a murmuring from the observers, and several Warlocks approached Eva. They parted to let Osiris through, and Saint hurried over so he could hear what she was saying.

“All in one day? My, you have been busy! Here, take this. You make the Warlocks proud.”

Osiris took the small package she handed to him and took her hand to squeeze it, in imitation of Saint from this morning. “No. I am proud to have so many of them here supporting the Vanguard.” He raised his voice. “Now finish the job, Warlocks! We can do this together!”

There was a cheer, and Saint cheered as well. “Give us a real fight, Warlocks! Hunters, too. You cannot sit by and let us Titans win all the time, even if we are the best.”

Osiris punched him lightly in the arm, and the crowd around them laughed.

“What did she give you?” Saint pestered as soon as they’d dodged the crowds and made their way back to Saint’s house. It was nice to have a little peace and quiet after all the commotion, he had to admit.

Osiris opened up the package to reveal a beautiful golden-bird Warlock Ghost shell. “Something to disguise Sagira with, should I feel moved to visit you incognito again.” He traced his fingers along the wings, clearly pleased with it.

“So lovely,” Saint said, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“Are you jealous that I claimed birds for the Warlocks before you could do the same for the Titans?”

Helmets off now, he pressed his mouth to Osiris’s temple in the best imitation of a kiss an Exo could do. “No. A Titan’s role is to make a safe place for the birds to come back to when they are done with their flight.”

Osiris’s smile was soft now as he settled himself into Saint’s arms. “The Titans are doing an admirable job, in that case. I can stay a short while longer before I must fly away again.”

“Stay as long as you can, but then leave so you can come back to me.” He could understand that better now, and if Osiris asked him to he would wait forever.

“You are worth coming back to,” Osiris murmured, and Saint knew he meant it.

It was enough.


End file.
